Cold War Allegory
by BPin
Summary: In the midst of an unknown struggle, Kairi finds the strength to perservere... one-shot.


2004 AD. This is a time when the ambitions of the American empire grows bitterly arrogant. Every young boy or girl from London to Stockholm to Beijing, is decked out in American fashion. Hip hop is big in America, and subsequently, is big everywhere on Earth. Foreign faces who aren't familiar with American society sport the braided corn rows, the basketball jerseys, and the Nike sneakers. Elsewhere, a Japanese schoolgirl playfully recites the rap lyrics from the MP3s she downloaded on her miniature cell phones, blissfully unaware of the scarred psyches of American social inequality that the music was inspired by.

But every country was on the receiving end of American foreign policy at one time or another.

An earlier century. They say that Einstein warned them against dropping the atomic bomb, despite encouraging the government to produce it. He had a belief that once the bomb ignited, it would launch a chain reaction that would decimate every atom on the planet. Existence itself was gambled upon when they blew the desert to Hell. Months later, that same schoolgirl's great grandmother would be a victim of that same bomb.

Then the Reds came. Oh, they never came, yet they had already come. All of them in America, all of them in the Union, and every soul in between were afraid that the Yankees and the Commies would scuffle. 

Almost decimated every atom on the planet.

* * *

"So this is America?" Kairi gazes up at the hotel, a skyscraper which made her small, even smaller than she used to be. The sun is obscured by clouds that glow golden; as if it were heaven's smile. The radiance of this sky reflects upon the shaded windows of the building. It looks so prosperous. "This makes Traverse Town look tiny."

"…yeah. Traverse Town is _homely_ compared to New York." Rorschach, the trenchcoat with the inkblot mask, lights a cigarette while stepping out of the hotel. "There's more to America than this place though."

"You were in Traverse Town too? I didn't notice you with the rest of us yesterday…sorry." Kairi hadn't seen Rorschach with the party last round; while she was training she didn't acquaint herself with the rest of the fighters. During the Heartless raid all she could do was slaughter through her own batch of them throughout the day. She wielded a keyblade of her own these days, hoping for the time she could find Sora in the thick of combat and fight…maybe die…beside him. She knew about what he was doing to defend the worlds from darkness, and after agonizing over it for several months, Kairi had come to the conclusion that they would have to share a short life together. Now her hands still shake from the battle, and she grips tightly onto her weapon with both of them to keep from losing the feeling beneath her wrists.

"I read up a newspaper an hour ago inside. Seems like the most powerful man in the world is a guy named Donald Rumsfeld." Rorschach blows out a puff of smoke. The tinge feeling of relief that comes over him is much appreciated. "You interested in my story?"

"Well…okay. It doesn't look like we have to fight anybody here." She smiles, a thin veil masking her battle-torn anxiety. "The sky looks so beautiful. The buildings look gorgeous. Never saw a place as blessed as America."

"I know this city. But I don't know this time. This isn't the time I remember. You ask a Joe on the street these days what he thinks about the Reds, and he'll ask if you're talking about the goddamn baseball team. The time I remember…was the 1980s. Seems like we wised up since then. People weren't so fucking stupid that we'd let it all die. 

"I was a Watchman. We were super-heroes. Defenders from injustice. But that never stopped the missile crisis…Nam…never stopped us from fighting Commies we didn't wanna fight. You say that America is blessed…all I can remember are the victims." 

"I'm…sorry. I never knew about this place."

"I'll remember to pick up a history book for you before we get shipped off to Hell or where-ever tomorrow. Maybe it'll tell me my future. You think we learned to stop beating our wives and take care of our kids too?"

Kairi felt ashamed of her ignorance; not embarrassed.

_

* * *

_

Swing downward. Thrust forward. Slice across. Now with one hand! Faster! When your arm hurts you know it's working!

Kairi never had proper instruction with the keyblade. She practiced her quasi-swordsmanship in a dirty, open alleyway. Unfortunately, what Rorschach had hinted on was true; not even this city in America was fully beautiful. This alleyway was littered with trash, and the sleeping destitute. Maybe if one of them wakes up…she'd have a sparring partner adept with a blade? Who knew if New York City had warriors, and that these bums were wandering vagabonds? 

"Sloppy." An unfamiliar voice. Not from the littered, unkempt homeless. On the brick wall, Kairi could see an outstretched shadow in the shape of a man out of the corner of her eye. She swung again. "Sloppy. It was all sloppy." 

"What's sloppy?" She turns to see a man, about twenty feet away from her.

"Amidst all the crack addicts, garbage, and infected syringes littered about this ghetto, your swordsmanship is the dirtiest thing here." He was an extravagant looking man, flamboyant and frilled, clothed in a purple suit. He was effeminate and his skin had a light-tan appearance to it. He spoke in an authoritive monotone. "It's obvious that you wield that blade with a modicum of talent." Kairi was convinced now that her keyblade skills were worthless, but she was still defensive over what she had valued.

"I'm…you're telling me I'm weak?!"

"The weak are condescending to you. You would be better off using your time studying to become a groupie at most."

"frr You're a prick!" Kairi extends her keyblade at the man. She is poised to fuck him up. She grits her teeth, but doesn't know whether she should bend her knees or stand up straight. Her hair seems to be getting in her eyes, too. As she fiddles with that, the man snickers. "Just who the hell are you anyway?!"

"I am Prince…Prince of the Revolution." No later than an eye's blink does his feet begin rushing the ground, and Prince has the tip of Kairi's keyblade in his fist. "You don't pay attention." He pulls the weapon out of her hands, and as she's dragged along with it Prince departs the two by kicking Kairi in chest. and slamming the bottom of his foot on her shoulder on its way down. 

"AGH!" She groans. She coughs out her spit. She wipes her mouth, and slowly gets back to her knees, letting her upper-torso hang down like a zombie struggling to rise. "You don't…know me." Prince mockingly rests her keyblade on his back.

"You are defined by your frailty. There is nothing more to know." Prince stands before Kairi, despite seemingly having nothing more to say or having any reason to be here in the first place. It is now that the bums in the alley begin to wake up. "These men who are already dead…they rise. They're invigorated by the freshly deceased."

"But I'm not! I'm not dead!"

"You might as well be. The way you slice at the air with your blade, you already expect to die. You are defeated instantly with that belief." 

"I don't see it! I can't see what you say you see!"

"What I see…is a desperate fighter who said her suicide rites before the battle began. This is familiar to me. Were you in love once?" 

"!"

"Get up." 

Prince tosses the keyblade. As Kairi catches it, she is bumrushed by the hobos, who seem to have lost the ability to speak coherently and now only mumble and groan. Kairi sees nothing but ruffled rags and dirt as they begin to pile on top of her, obscuring all of her vision. But she can still feel the keyblade. 

She remembers something Sora said. The keyblade glimmers in the light of a person who has still accepted his heart. 

What Sora fights for is right; he isn't going to die! She refuses defeat without seeing Sora again! Kairi slashes her offenders one at a time. She tosses them all away with her invigorated slices. It becomes a dance; a rhythm she can move to. She sees the wielding of her keyblade, for the first time, as an art form. Like all other art forms, she had to manifest her being into it. Hope dangles from the chain of the handle.

It is by now that she noticed that the bums were defeated, knocked cold. 

"Bravo." Prince claps, slowly. "I'm humored. But you still have to learn. I will teach you some of my art…can you play basketball?"

"Basket…ball?" Kairi manages between her exhausted gasps for air. "Never was any good at it."

* * *

This fanfic entails the unauthorized use of the following: 

Kairi and Kingdom Hearts © 2002-2004 Disney and Square-Enix

Rorschach and Watchmen © 1985-2004 DC Comics


End file.
